The Hopes and Dreams of Gilbert Beilschmidt
by Domomomo
Summary: Gilbert realizes that his life is incomplete, having so many desires that were unfulfilled. Lucky for him, he has a beautiful girlfriend and tons of friends that will be there to help him with his dreams...like making a porno. Prussia/Hungary.
1. A Most Brilliant Idea

"What am I doing with my life?"

Elizabeta looked up from the novel she was reading, momentarily distracted by the words of the country next to her. "Hmm? What was that?"

"My _life_! What am I doing with it?"

"Good Lord, Gilbert, will you please get over the fact that you're not a country-"

"This is about my _dreams_, Lizzy!"

The impassioned declaration made Elizabeta give pause, exasperation mingling with curiosity as she examined her boyfriend. God, he was weird. "Dreams?"

"Yes, dreams!" Gilbert huffed, voice inappropriately loud for such a lazy afternoon. "You don't think I have dreams? Things I _long _for?"

"I thought the only thing you "longed" for was to get in my pants."

"One of many dreams!" he made a large gesture at this, the wild motion causing Gilbird to leave his perch on Gilbert's shoulder and fluttering up to nest on his head. "There are so many things I haven't done, haven't seen! For so long I've been held back! Oppression, your prudishness ("What the hell?"), that fatass and his fucking curtain! Everything's just holding me back!"

"Oh please," the brunette scoffed, setting aside her book and rolling her eyes. "No one's doing anything to you or "holding you back". The only person doing that would be you."

A light bulb went off in Gilbert's head, eyes widening in realization. She was right. "You're right..." he muttered in awe, standing to his feet. "You're right! I can do it all! Everything I've wanted...it can all be mine. Just because my land is gone doesn't mean my dreams are too! I'll fulfill my dreams, and _you'll_ help me!"

"What."

"C'mon, Lizzy! Do it!"

Elizabeta looked into the face of her boyfriend: his eyes weren't pleading nor was his mouth pouting. Instead, his eyes were full of mischief and his lips were stretched into a smirk. He already knew her answer.

"Well, then what's first, moron?"


	2. Dream 1: Pet Feli's Hair

**DREAM 1: PET FELICIANO'S HAIR FOR ONE HOUR.**

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

"Coming!" The couple heard the stumbling pitter-patter of feet, followed shortly by the creak of the front door, opening to reveal Feliciano. "Ve~? Gilbert and big sister Elizabeta? What are you doing in Italy?"

The two addressed nations immediately broke out into twin fond smiles; Feliciano was just too cute. "Oh, my little Feliciano~!" Elizabeta squealed, hugging Feliciano to her bosom tightly. "I've missed you so much!"

"B-big sister...you're squishing me..."

Gilbert chuckled, prying his girlfriend's loving arms off of Feliciano. "Chill out, Lizzy, you're gonna kill him." Turning to Feliciano, Gilbert grinned even wider, ruffling his hair affectionately. "How you doing, Feli? Getting along with West?"

Feliciano almost sparkled at the mention of Ludwig, his favorite topic aside from food. "Ah, he's actually here right now!"

As if on cue Ludwig appeared behind Feliciano, looking mildly confused to see his brother on the doorstep to the Vargas household. "_Bruder_, Elizabeta? What are you doing here?"

"So I can fulfill my dreams!"

Silence.

"...What?" Ludwig raised a hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose, and one could almost _see_ the headache brewing inside.

Elizabeta quickly jumed to answer, not trusting Gilbert to say something _not_ stupid. "Gilbert made a bucket list and wants to complete it, and we need Feliciano for the first part."

"Excuse me, but it's actually called _The Awesomely Whimsical Hopes and Dreams of the Amazing Gilbert Beilschmidt_! Geez, you make it sound so lame..."

Gilbert's bitching went unnoticed (read: ignored) by the other nations, Feliciano and Ludwig still puzzling over the new information. "Eh? But why do you need me?"

"_WELL_," Gilbert began, shoving Elizabeta to the side to capture the couple's complete attention, "The first thing on my list is to pet Feli's hair for exactly one hour!"

Another silence.

"...Ve~?"

A yelp of pain pierced the air when a certain crazed Hungarian sent Gilbert flying into a rose bush, her leg still raised in attack. "Don't you touch me again, idiot, or I'll beat your face in." A defeated groan was her reply.

"So, if I understand correctly," Ludwig wondered aloud, "you're intending to stroke Feliciano's hair for 60 minutes?"

"Precisely, West!"

"Right..." Ludwig sighed tiredly, finally coming to terms with the fact that the relative peace he had been spending with Feliciano was gone. He'd just begun to relax, too.

Feliciano, that kind soul, was not perturbed by this in the least, backing away from the door to invite his friends in. "Well, let's get started then! Oh, but are you hungry? I could make an early lunch."

"Nah, it's cool. We'll just do what we came here to do."

"Ah, okay! Let's go into the sitting room then!" Feliciano led them with a spring in his step to the sitting room, sitting on the couch with his standard dim-witted smile resting on his face. "Can I sit here, Gilbert?"

"Sure," Gilbert replied, already excited to begin work on his first dream. Plopping on the seat next to Feliciano he immediately got to work, petting Feliciano's hair with a contented smile on his face. "Geez, your hair is so soft, Feli! I could pet you forever."

"Ve, this feels nice~ Just don't touch my curl!"

Minutes passed in almost complete quiet, interrupted once in a while by a pleased "ve". After five minutes, Elizabeta couldn't take the amazing amounts of moe this scene created. "Ohhh, my little Feliciano, you're so cute~!" In a matter of seconds Elizabeta joined the pair on the couch, sitting on the other side of Feliciano and stroking his head lovingly, joy evident on her face.

Ludwig, at a total loss as to what to do in this sort of situation without some sort of guide, sighed yet again, slumping into an armchair across from the odd scene. He was not made to handle such strange things as this.

"Wh-what the fuck? What are you potato bastards doing here? And what the hell are you doing to Veneziano?" Lovino stood stock-still in the entryway to the room, shoulders hunched and his hands twitching in aggravation. Apparently, seeing two Germans in his house wasn't what he had wanted after spending an afternoon with Antonio. And speaking of Antonio...

"Oh, is this a party? Why didn't you tell me you were going to have guests over, Lovino?" Antonio moved to stand beside Lovino, leaning toward him a little too much for Lovino's liking.

"Because, moron, they aren't supposed to be here!"

Convinced his headache couldn't get any worse, Ludwig stood up from his seat, the responsibility of explaining the situation falling to him, as the other three were currently preoccupied. "_Bruder_ made a list of things he wants to do in his lifetime, and the first of these was to stroke Feliciano's hair for 60 minutes."

"I didn't ask you, shithead!" Lovino snarled, reminding Ludwig vaguely of an angered alley cat. "You fucking bastard, get your fucking hands off my- h-hey! Dammit, Antonio, what are you doing?"

"Ah, well his hair looks so soft and I've always wanted to pet his hair, and I want to pet yours too but you'd never let me." Antonio wore a dopey smile that could rival Feliciano's. "You should try too! It's relaxing."

Lovino scoffed and crossed his arms tightly, shooting a disapproving glare at the group. "As if I would! I'm not some idiot like you guys, so of course I'd never do something retarded like that!" Everything about Lovino showed his displeasure, but he could do nothing to hide the blush that dusted his cheeks when Antonio said he wanted to pet his hair. Creepy pervert.

Time continued to pass in relative peace, constant giggling and cooing drifting in the air, Lovino sitting in _his_ armchair, where Ludwig had _dared_ to sit in his absence. He made sure that Ludwig understood his error by kicking him in the shin, the impact likely to leave a bruise.

"Hey West, how long has it been?"

Ludwig looked up from the small handbook he had been reading to glance at his watch. "It has been...42 minutes. 18 minutes left."

"Oho, what is this~?" Heads turned as Francis pushed himself through the small window, dusting himself off when he rose to full height.

Almost catapulting from his chair Lovino scrambled to the opposite side of the room, moving behind the couch and cowering. "Wh-what's that wino doing here? Get him out! D-dammit, Antonio, pr-protect me!"

Antonio perked up at this, glancing at Lovino before turning his attention to Francis. "Hey, Francis! Are you here to pet Feliciano too?"

"Don't invite him, moron! I said get rid of him!"

"I actually came here to whisk away our dear Feliciano, but to feel his hair would be a nice consolation." Francis situated himself behind the couch and began to pet his hair, Lovino scampering away immediately to return to the haven of his chair.

"Whoa, hey, Francis. Nice to see ya," Gilbert greeted, having been wholly entranced by Feliciano's hair. "And dude, Antonio! When did you get here?"

"About a half hour ago. I've been petting Feliciano too. Isn't his hair so nice?"

Elizabeta sighed happily, enjoying the feel of the soft locks of hair. "It's wonderful! Just about every part of Feliciano is perfect~"

Grumbling a comment about how stupid Feliciano was, so of course he's not fucking perfect, Lovino sunk further into his seat, spending the following time imagining how he'd prove that he was so much cooler and smarter than his dumb little brother. Unfortunately, his musings were interrupted by a new visitor. "Aaaah! It's Russia!" he shrieked, skittering behind Ludwig (the most coherent and intimidating of the present nations) and hid under his uniform jacket, shivering with fear.

"How good to see you all," Ivan began, enjoying the varying looks of terror on the group's faces. Not one of them moved a single muscle, frozen with fright. How delightful. "Won't you invite me in?"

A single step forward was all it took for the others to flee, racing madly out of the house and screaming, leaving behind a terrified Feliciano and an unprepared Ludwig.

"Is Feliciano's hair soft? Oh, it is!" Ivan announced this with glee as he stroked Feliciano's hair, who at this point was tearing up an shaking a bit. "Ehe! Just like a soft little kitten! But I cannot pet too roughly or the kitten might break, da?"

"L-Ludwig...help me..."


	3. Dream 2: Have a Maid

**DREAM 2: HAVE A MAID**

**

* * *

**

The next day found the posse of seven together in the Beilschmidt house, or more exact, the kitchen.

"Okay, so petting Feli's hair was interrupted, but we got to 56 minutes. Hey, maybe we can try again-"

"You're not touching my brother again, bastard!"

"Well fine." Gilbert traded a glare with Lovino. "Anyway, so I guess that's as good as we'll get, but don't worry, because we have more to do!" His enthusiasm didn't quite spread to the rest of the group, Lovino still angry as a hornet and Ludwig serving as proof of this, sporting not only a bruised shin but a bounty of scratches on his face. Punishment for not protecting Feliciano better, according to Lovino. Needless to say, Ludwig wasn't too jovial either.

Antonio, much to Gilbert's pleasure, was his sole supporter in this endeavor (Feliciano would have been, but he was still quite shaken over his encounter with Ivan), practically bursting with excitement for their next adventure. "What's next, _amigo_? What are we doing next?"

Pulling a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket, Gilbert eagerly wondered what was next. Once unraveled, Gilbert's previous grin exploded into something positively radiant, glee dousing the air around him. "Number Two: Get a maid."

Francis snapped to attention, the topic taking a turn for one of his favorite fantasies. "A maid, you say? I do hope you mean a _French_ maid." Already his mind was churning out images of lace, short dresses, ribbons, transparent black stockings going up long, long legs, and who could forget the deliciously low-cut collar that dipped down to cover _just _enough cleavage? He couldn't, and the thought of a sexy little maid calling him Master was getting him rather turned on. He might have been drooling a bit.

"Something like that, yeah."

"What would we need a maid for, _Bruder_? I keep our house very clean," Ludwig reminded him, a little offended by his brother's comment. Was Gilbert not happy with how he cleaned? He took care of everything, even Gilbert's own messes, and made sure everything was spotless and organized. He did an astounding job, if Ludwig said so himself.

Putting on his most pathetic and dramatic face Gilbert immediately began whining. "But Weeeest, you wouldn't look sexy in a dress," he complained, taking this opportunity to cling to Elizabeta forlornly. "I need a _woman_, not a burly and gross German little brother."

Elizabeta bristled when Gilbert emphasized "woman" by squeezing her hip, not exactly happy with the direction this conversation was taking. "No, Gilbert, _no_. There's no way I'm going to wear a skanky little maid outfit just so you can complete your bucket list. Why don't you get some other girl?"

"Because I don't _want_ some other girl, I want you!"

Elizabeta blushed lightly, secretly loving the compliment. Gilbert could be so sweet sometimes...

"And you'd fill it out so nicely!" Gilbert gave a sharp wolf whistle then, tracing the outlines of an invisible hourglass in the air. His lecherous smirk completed the picture.

"Ugh, you _pig_!" _SMACK._ "I will never do something like that, do you hear me? Besides, it's a _French_ maid, so who better than Francis to play the part?"

"Ew, no way-"

"I humbly accept!"

All was quiet, heads turning to spy Francis standing, a twinkle of determination in his eye.

"Wh-what...the..._fuck_," Lovino began, surprised stray chuckles making way for hysterical cackling, humored tears pricking at his eyes. "Wow, what a freak! I kn-knew you were a perverted bastard, b-but this takes the cake!"

Francis' expression immediately turned sour, his angry blue eyes locking on Lovino's laughing face. "You are not as funny as you think you are! Perhaps I should teach you what humor really is!"

"Aaack! Get away, you cross-dressing dickface! Stop chasing me!"

The chase, in the end, left a breathless and seething Lovino captured in the arms of Antonio, whispering kind words about how Francis would leave him alone, and _oh_, Lovino would look so cute as a French maid! The other, less adorable side of the spectrum had a still-rather-angry Francis glaring at Lovino, a pouty frown on his face. "Well, if we are needing a dress, shall we go to my home? I'm sure we can find what we are looking for there."

"Oh, I'll bet we can, jerk."

"Silence!"

* * *

"Well? What do you think, _mon ami_?"

"Ugh." Gilbert's expression could easily be translated to "displeasure", feeling slightly mortified at seeing one of his best friends, well...dressed like a _chick_. "To be honest, it's creeping me out. Seriously. I mean, you don't have boobs, and you have a beard! How is this supposed to be sexy?"

"Shall I stuff my bra, then?"

"No! It's just...you're just too _manly_. We need a real woman!"

Francis gasped, raising a hand to his chest as if stricken. "How could you say something like that? I'll have you know I am more beautiful than a good number of women!"

"He is right, you know," Antonio supplied. "I've seen some pretty ugly women in my time."

Gilbert paused to consider this. Reflecting back on history, he had to agree that Francis looked better than the beastly women he sometimes saw in Germany. His legs were pretty nice too, if you shaved the hair off. "I guess that's true. So, what now? Do we go back to my place?"

A whine of protest escaped Feliciano's mouth, followed soon by a yawn. "Gilbert's house is too far, and Brother and I missed our siesta!" Eyes traveled over to Lovino, who was also looking exhausted, eyelids drooping slightly. "Can't we just stay here?"

"How can he be my maid if we're at his house?"

Suddenly, Gilbert's sight was blocked by a dress-clad Francis, holding his chin and staring deeply into his eyes. "If I cannot clean your house, Master Gilbert, surely there is a more personal service I can provide for you~?"

"_YesYesYesYesYesYesYes_," Elizabeta chanted hungrily, snapping photo after photo as Francis' fingers continued to wander over Gilbert's body.

"Oh! Why don't you clean your house?"

"...What?"

"Yeah! That way you'll be doing your maid stuff WHILE getting your house cleaned!" Gilbert made a show of prying Francis' hands off of his body. "AND you won't be touching me. No offense."

Francis sighed, disappointed by an opportunity lost. "None taken. I know my amazing intimate sexual prowess can be intimidating to those with less experience."

"Pfff. Yeah, that's totally it. Just get to work, _Francine_."

"Heehee! _Oui_, Master Gilbert~!"

Luckily, neither Gilbert nor Francis heard Lovino's mocking snicker, or else the entire ordeal would last well into the next day.

* * *

Gilbert huffed dejectedly, repositioning himself on Elizabeta's cream-colored sofa, mourning the fact that his plan didn't pan out like he thought it would. Elizabeta seemed to sense his bad mood too; she hadn't said a word to him since they arrived home, and he hadn't seen head nor tail of her in the 43 minutes they'd been home. Another day wasted.

"Hey, Gilbert."

Now here was a strange occurence. He turned his head around to face a timid Elizabeta who was currently hiding behind the corner of the hallway and was peering into the room nervously. Not a thing about her was out of the ordinary (save for her sudden shyness), but Gilbert noticed a yellow cloth was fastened over her hair. "Lizzy? What's wrong?" He took his feet down from the seat and scooted over, a silent invitation for Elizabeta to sit with him.

"W-well, uhm...I was..." Elizabeta furrowed her brows, trying to regulate her breathing so she could move on to the more nerve-wracking part of her speech. "A-ah...Is there anything I can do for you, M-Master Gilbert?" It was then that Elizabeta stepped out from her hiding place to be fully visible, meeting Gilbert's eyes for a second before looking away, hands fidgeting with her dress relentlessly.

Her _dress_. Her _maid uniform_ from her time working in Roderich's house.

Gilbert could only stare at her in awe, hardly able to believe that his girlfriend was doing this for him. Was this a dream?

"I-I know you were going for a French maid, but I don't have an outfit like th-that, and geez, th-this is embarrassing," Elizabeta mumbled almost apoligetically, flushing considerably and already backtracking in her movements. "J-just forget it, I-I'm going to go change now-"

"Lizzy."

Nervously turning back around, Elizabeta was greeted with the sight of Gilbert once again sprawled out on her sofa, grinning as though he'd just been crowned the King of Europe.

"Don't change just yet; I'm sure we can find _something_ you can do for me..."


	4. Dream 3: Dance With a Bear

**DREAM 3: DANCE WITH A BEAR**

**

* * *

**

"You made out with Elizabeta?"

"Intensely, I might add. Vigorously. It was so hot. She could barely keep up with my awesome talent."

"Oh? Is that why you're the one with dark blotches on your neck?" Francis teased, Antonio and him unable to resist chuckling at their friend's show of "dominance".

Gilbert turned a deep shade of red, reaching a hand up to cover the spots. "Y-yeah, well you guys can't talk! I bet you haven't got as much action as I did this week!"

Now the two burst into full-on laughter. "Gilbert, do you know who you're speaking to? Half the world bows to my amazing pleasuring powers! In fact, I've spent two nights this week in two different countries, if you know what I mean." Francis punctuated his statement with a flirtatious wink.

"Me and Lovino have done it a few times. Why, just last night after the maid fiasco-"

"NO, ANTONIO. DON'T WANNA HEAR IT," Gilbert hollered in frustration. He hadn't even beaten that pansy Roderich to banging Elizabeta, and that fact alone bothered him to no end.

At that moment, Elizabeta walked into the room, cooking apron still on and completely unaware of the previous conversation. "Oh, Francis, Antonio! How are you this morning? Would you like to eat with us? I can make more pancakes and sausage, if you'd like," Elizabeta offered, cheerfully smiling at the idea that it wouldn't be just her (and Gilbert, for he'd somehow managed to move into her basement without her consent) eating her morning meal.

"Ah, we'd love to," Antonio said, returning her kindness with a smile of his own. Of the Bad Touch Trio Antonio was definitely the one she liked best...well, besides Gilbert. Not that she'd ever tell him _that_.

The group soon found themselves seated around Elizabeta's dining table, thoroughly enjoying the delicious breakfast she had prepared. In the midst of conversation, Elizabeta came upon a stray thought. "Gilbert, what's on the list for today?" she asked, piquing the curiosity of the others as well.

"Lemme see..." Gilbert reached a hand into his back pocket, yet again retrieving his crumpled list. "Number 3: Dance with a bear."

Silence fell upon them.

"A...bear?"

"Well _yeah_! Haven't you ever wanted to do that?"

"I cannot say that I have, _mon ami_. But where do you plan to find this bear?"

Gilbert scratched his chin absently, contemplating the question for a moment. "I was thinking that we could just go to a forest and find one, or something. You've got bears here, right, Lizzy?"

"Not ones that won't bite your head off. What kind of animals do you think _live_ in the wild?"

Huffing indignantly, Gilbert crossed his arms, not liking to be insulted so early in the day. "Where else are we going to find one?" Everyone at the table lost themselves in thought, searching their brains for an idea.

"Oho! I know where we can find one!"

"Oooh, ooh! Where?"

"Why, at my darling _Mathieu's_ house, of course~" Francis said with a flourish, pride in his voice as he praised his beloved son.

Antonio blinked a few times, his expression blank. "...Who?"

"_Mathieu_! Canada!"

The others let out various noises of understanding, finally remembering who Francis was talking about. "Ohh, right, that guy. I forgot about him."

"He doesn't stand out very much, does he? A shame, because he'd make such a wonderful match for his brother."

"Alfred's brother? So he's the guy that lives north of Alfred, right? I think that's him."

"Do not talk about my son like that!" Francis growled, not particularly liking the current string of conversation. "He is very special, you know!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, unimpressed by how _girly_ Francis was acting. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But seriously, what does what's-his-name have to do with a bear?"

"_Mathieu_ has a pet polar bear."

Francis's two friends lit up when they heard this. "Really? Dude, let's go!"

* * *

Matthew was nothing short of surprised to see four eager nations standing on his doorstep, Gilbert still pressing the doorbell relentlessly. Truthfully, Matthew almost closed the door again, his hand twitching to do such. He couldn't deny that he was curious, though; it was rare that he got visitors. So what to do? Continue to spend a lazy day by himself watching old hockey matches, or indulge his curiosity and find out what they were there for?

He was given no time to decide as he was tackled by an over-enthusiastic father, rolling around on the floor and fondling every bit of Matthew he could reach.

"_Mon petit fils_! Oh, how I have missed you!"

"_P-Papa_! I just saw you last Wednesday! You're crushing me…!"

Elizabeta squawked indignantly when Gilbert covered the lens of her camera, blocking the rapid-fire shuttering from the tantalizing scene before them. "So Mathias, where's the bear?"

"My name's Matthew, Mathias is Denmark…" he muttered, though his complaint fell on deaf ears. Matthew sighed dejectedly. "So, you're looking for Kumapero? What do you need him for?"

Francis released Matthew and stood up, taking the lead for the group and none-too-casually spotlighting himself. "My dear _Mathieu_, we are here to fulfill one of Gilbert's many devilish desires as written in his list of life dreams!" he said, conjuring a whirlwind of rose petals to emphasize his French beauty.

"…But what do you need Kumakichi for?"

"Because the third thing on my list is to dance with a bear. And you've got a polar bear!"

The fact that the other countries knew more about his pet than about him left a sour taste in his mouth, but it really couldn't be helped, especially since his brother and adoptive British father didn't recognize him either. Some days he wished he was more French. Not a moment after thinking this Kumajiro wandered into the entryway, nudging Matthew's leg with his wet nose. At this Matthew smiled, picking Kumajiro up and hugging him to his chest. "Kumataki, we have guests over."

Kumajiro stared up at his owner blankly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada…"

"Hey, _amigo_, can we continue talking inside? It's really cold out here…" Antonio hugged himself and shivered to prove his point.

"A-ah! Of course, how stupid of me! Come in." Matthew backed away from the door quickly before he could be trampled by the other nations, a strong possibility given his presence (or lack thereof).

Finally situated in the dining room, Gilbert began to elaborate on _The Awesomely Whimsical Hopes and Dreams of the Amazing Gilbert Beilschmidt_ and what they had already done and what they had yet to achieve. Matthew had to admit he was impressed; Gilbert seemed to put quite a bit of time and dedication into the project. He was also rather concerned for his mental health, but such feelings were expected in regards to Gilbert or any other member of the Bad Touch Trio. Yes, very concerning indeed.

"Hello? You in there, Martin?"

"Huh? What?"

Gilbert frowned, knocking Matthew on the head for good measure. "I _asked_ you if your bear knows how to dance. Ow!" Gilbert rubbed his head where Elizabeta hit it, retribution in defense of the spineless Matthew. "Geez, Lizzy, what was that for?"

"Don't hit people, Gilbert. It's rude."

"Oh, like you're one to talk!"

"Uhm…" Matthew expertly cut in, not at all keen on having an all-out brawl or bloodied bodies in his home. "I don't think Kumahimo can dance, but sometimes he does this little wiggling thing. Does that count?"

Gilbert seemed to consider this for a moment, looking to his friends for input. "I dunno. What do you think, Antonio?"

"I think we should teach him flamenco dancing! We could put him in a dress, too! So cute!" Antonio was literally bubbling with glee, but couldn't help whining about Lovino as he clung to Francis's arm, crying out his tale of woe and how he wished Lovino wouldn't punch him every time he tried to get him into a dress.

"Mmm, but I'd much rather see a dress like that on our dear lady Elizabeta! It would hug her curves so nicely, wouldn't you agree, Gilbert?"

His response was a strangled noise of embarrassment, the color of his cheeks matching his eyes. Francis fancied himself a good man, but there was something about a stuttering Gilbert that he couldn't resist teasing. Ah, the effects _l'amour _could have on even the most romantically-stunted souls.

"Wh-what kind of question is that, Francis? O-of course I don't think she would! Even a dress like that w-wouldn't be able to make her tits look bigger! Geez, what a dumb question, hahaha!"

"Y-you! You inconsiderate jerk! I swear to God, I'll kill you!" A manly screech of terror pierced the air as Gilbert scrambled past his friends, an enraged Hungarian wielding a frying pan in hot pursuit. "Get back here, you vile wretch!"

"Like hell, you psycho bitch!"

Had Antonio not been so absent-minded he might have heard Francis click his tongue and say "So immature, chasing each other about like children. Shameful." Had he not been so absent-minded he might have pointed out to Francis that he had done the exact same thing to Lovino the day before. As it was, though, Antonio _was_ that absent-minded, so the only thing that he did was let out a simple stream of chuckles as he thought of the Vargas brothers wearing beautiful flamenco dresses.

Suddenly, Francis felt a tug on his other arm (the one Antonio wasn't clinging to) and nearly jumped, Matthew having suddenly appeared at his side. A funny notion, since Francis couldn't recall the boy ever leaving. Oh well. "Yes, _Mathieu_? What is it you need?"

"Well, I was just thinking tha—" both coherent nations cringed at the painful cracking sound (_"Oh my God Lizzy put down that thing stop hitting me I didn't mean it I swearrrOH MY FUCKING GOD AUUUUGHHHH_") "—at getting him to flamenco dance wouldn't work. Kumashindo stands on all four legs, and I'm pretty sure he can't stand on less than that." Matthew turned to look at his pet, Kumajiro hungrily consuming the fish he'd been given to eat.

Francis considered this statement for a moment. "Gilbert could hold him up, _oui_?" he reasoned, doing his best do block out the sounds of torture erupting from the next room.

"That would work," Matthew conceded, turning to his pet and asking, "What do you thing, Kumamaru?"

Kumajiro looked up at him with a thoughtful shine in his eyes, licking his paws clean. "That sounds fine."

"Then it's settled. Gilbert, Elizabeta!" A weak groan of pain met Francis's ears. "Come in here!" He heard Gilbert grunt as he struggled to stand, then the shuffling of feet as they made their way in. Gilbert didn't look nearly as broken as his cries implied, though he was certainly worse for wear, evidenced by the purple welts already blooming on his face. Elizabeta was scowling, not completely satisfied or anger-free, but luckily looking significantly less agitated than she had some moments ago.

"God, you are such a bitch."

"Watch it, Beilschmidt, before I decide to break your neck." A shiver of fear raced up his spine, hand instinctively rising up to protect his neck.

"S-So what is it?"

Antonio was pulled from his fantasies by the sound of Gilbert's voice, looking between the different people confusedly. People had been talking?

Luckily, Francis was there to inform him. "Since…"—Francis paused, unable to recall the name—"the bear can't stand on his own, we thought it might be best if you held him up by his paws. That's the only way it would work, I believe."

Gilbert pondered this. "Well, I guess that would work," he acknowledged, squatting down so he was level with Kumajiro. "Okay bear, let's do this." Gilbert grabbed Kumajiro's paws as he hoisted him up, still having to bend over when the bear was at full height. "Jesus Christ, you're heavy. What do you eat, walrus blubber?" Kumajiro only stared at him with beady black eyes. Gilbert took this as a 'yes'. Ignoring the cramping in his muscles for the time being, he continued. "Alright, let's dance, Kuma-whatever."

And so they danced.

…Well, as well as a nation and bear _could_ dance together.

* * *

It was early evening by the time they left Canada, Gilbert and Kumajiro only dancing for a short time, the rest spent eating when Gilbert pointed out that as the host, Matthew should cook lunch/dinner for them. Pancakes, to be precise.

By the time Elizabeta and Gilbert (who had insisted that she help support him because his back was sore from leaning over and she was always talking about how strong she was anyway) arrived home the two were ready for sleep, following their nightly routines with minimal effort. It was only when Gilbert pulled out his crumpled list and grinned widely that she bothered to say anything at all. "What's next on the list?" she questioned, words slurred slightly by the toothbrush and toothpaste currently in her mouth.

He smirked at her and slipped the paper back into his pocket, retreating to the stairs that led to the first floor of the house. "You'll find out eventually. Night, Lizzy!" His call was followed by the sound of quick footsteps down a flight of stairs, and then once again as he descended a second staircase that led to his makeshift bedroom in the basement.

Elizabeta looked at her reflection in the mirror quizzically.

'_What could it possibly be?'_


End file.
